Heat of the Moment
by Aurora Blevins
Summary: Dean meets up with an old flame, Whitley. Humorous one shot. Not much to say, just wrote this on a whim. Reviews are LOVE!


Yup, I did it – named this one in honor of episode 3.11 "Mystery Spot". Remember the song that wakes Sam up every Tuesday? I just got this idea the other day and I couldn't help writing it down. So, since I'm not that fond of Cassie (who freaking does? She stole Dean from all the fan girls like me! Ha ha) she never happened in this story, but everything else has. Even though I'm most definitely a Lisa and Ben fan, they didn't happen in this story either. 'Kay? You can place this anywhere in the series that you want, cause I suppose it could go any where. So if you're not a fan of lemons, don't let the italicized portion scare you, it's just a dream, and there isn't any thing else that is all that descriptive. To those of you that like lemons, there will be some jokes that you'll catch right off the bat. Without further ado -

* * *

_**Heat of the Moment**_

_Even after they had finished he laid fiery passionate kisses on her lips that she had returned more than willingly. She could feel his hand slowly make a trail down her stomach and finally stopping when his fingers hit that sweet little spot and he worked on it until she came again. She could feel him watching her enjoy the rush, that feeling that so far only he had gotten her to. She asked why he watched and he replied simply "Cause that really gets me going…again?" She nodded and both were again on their way to another mind-shattering orgasm_.

Whitley Loganson could have finished that amazing dream of a night so long ago she could hardly remember, but her dreaded alarm clock started buzzing and she knew it would only go off if she turned it off. Every morning she wondered why she left the clock so far away from her bed and every morning she reminded herself that it was because she would hit the snooze so many times she would be late for or even possibly _miss _work.

She slid out from under the warm covers and shivered as her feet hit the cold hard-wood floor in her loft. Whitley leaned over to her nightstand to take her birth control "Why the fuck am I taking this? It's not like I'm getting laid." Considering the circumstances, she still plopped the little pink pill on her tongue and took a sip of water; hey you never know you might get lucky…yeah, _that_ was a good one. It was true about not getting laid, despite the soft blonde hair and great body…she had sworn off sex after the meteorologist had fed her some cheap pick-up lines and screwed her…him gaining the sole happy ending and leaving her feeling used and unsatisfied.

As she got ready for work she thought about how much her life sucked. She was single, she absolutely hated the people she worked with which made her job terrible, but she did like being an investigative reporter. She entered her closet to get dressed. Her arm brushed against a pair of jeans as she reached for a grey Ann Taylor suit. She slipped on her grey pants over a lace see through thong and slipped a pale pink cashmere tank over a bra that matched her thong. She longed to wear a pair of jeans, but her boss would have a freaking hissy fit if she even mentioned the idea. So, suits it was, with high heels that killed her feet and back by the end of the day. Oh, the ends of the days were worse than the mornings. She thought as she slipped on her suit jacket. She came home to an empty loft, cooked or bought herself a dinner for one, and went to bed right after she took off her make-up. Whitley felt too worn, ragged, alone, and old to be 26.

* * *

"Mornin' Miss Loganson"

"Whitley, Morgan, please call me Whitley" Whitley called to her 'just out of college I'll do anything to do a good job' PA.

"Your coffee is on your desk Miss…I mean Whitley. Oh, here comes that **hot **meteorologist, _Mike._" Morgan drew out his name and then giggled because just saying it made her tingly.

"Oh God, really? I was having an okay morning." Mike had been treating Whitley like a whore ever since they had been together.

"Looking sexy, doll face! MmHmm" Mike said as he walked over to where she was standing while quite obviously looking her up and down.

"It's Whitley, not doll face. Actually, let's have it be Miss Loganson."

"Ooo, hot, like you're my nasty teacher," He said sliding his arm around her waist and giving her a kiss on the cheek, "I'll see you later Miss Loganson." Whitley rolled her eyes and pretended that his comments didn't bother her.

"Whitley you have a meeting with the producers about a new segment. And it's like…now"

* * *

Dean Winchester was having a dream similar to Whitley Loganson's, the only difference being that his dream self got to finish the whole night. "Dean…Dean.., Wake Up!!!" At that point in time Dean was exceedingly happy that he slept on his stomach.

"What dude? I was having a good dream, like a _great_ dream."

"Yeah, Dean, I heard," Sam retorted exasperated, "That would be why I took a shower."

"Why did ya need a cold one?" Dean joked as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.

"No, more like a _loud _one"

"Oh…um...sorry?" offered Dean.

"Yeah, thanks. You gonna get up?"

Dean gruffly stated, "Well, Sammy, I think I'm going to need a minute or two."

"I'll meet you at the nearest diner, man. I'm talking like walking distance, Dean. Don't lose me like you did yesterday. I mean it."

"GO, Sam!!"

Dean walked into the nearest diner and found his brother sitting in a corner booth nursing a cup of coffee. "Hey"

"Hey, so Katie Holmes or actual girl?"

"Naw, I always lose interest in girls once they're with Tom Cruise. She's an actual girl, few years back; her name's Whitley, Whitley Loganson."

"Wow, last name. You must have liked her." Sam smiled a cheeky little smile he knew his brother hated.

Sam was taken aback by Dean's answer "Yeah, I did. Mind if we make a stop in Montana?"

"Sure, it's only a couple of hours away. Does she know what we do?" Dean nodded. "Should we be institutionalized in her eyes?" Dean shook his head. "Wow, how'd you manage that?"

"Well, she's one hell of a woman, Sam. She never had that look, you know, that very clearly says 'you are insane', but it was kind of hard for her to fathom. Then, I had to save her from one hell of a crazy ghost. And, trust me, Sam, there's nothing like 'near death experience-sorry I had trouble believing you' sex."

* * *

Meanwhile, in Helena, Montana, Whitley sat in the middle of a meeting about the new news segment called "Fresh Stories". She thought the idea was laughable; fresh? What were news stories now anyway...fruit? Goofiest ideas the producers have ever had.

"I'm sorry to interrupt Mr. Brighton, but Miss Loganson has an important phone call. I'm to ask if she can take it?" Morgan said from the doorway of the meeting room.

Mr. Brighton smiled, he wasn't the old jerk that everyone thought he was, "Yes, Morgan, Miss Loganson may take the call. We are quite done here." He rose from his seat as he spoke.

Whitley walked to her desk and picked up the phone, "This is Whitley"

"Whitley, Hey! I'm headed that way and I thought we might have…uh…coffee or something."

"Well, all that depends on who you are."

"Oh, yeah, this is Dean. You know Dean Winchester."

"Dean?"

"Yeah, how are you?"

"I'm great, well that's a lie I'm not great. I'm terrible, but…uh…how've you been?"

"Can't complain. Sounds like you're in need of a coffee"

"Aren't I always?"

"I certainly remember that you were"

"Maybe that's because you kept me up all night. Ever thought of that?"

"Crossed my mind a couple times. So you're assistant told me you're a reporter. Congratulations!"

"Yeah, I'm not a PA anymore and don't worry Morgan is treated much better than I was."

"Yeah, glad to hear it. Can I come see you at work?"

"Where are you?"

"Well, outside the building."

"I'm working on a story. Mind giving me…let's say an hour?"

"Sure, I'll see you then."

"Yeah, see ya."

She was absorbed in her work when she felt someone behind her; at first she was startled but when she realized it was him she relaxed. A whole new level of relaxation that she hadn't felt in years. Whitley could feel Dean Winchester's breath hot on the back of her neck and a familiar tingly sensation crawled up her spine. "I want you, Whit."

"You want me? Here?" she retorted glancing around the crowded newsroom. Writers jamming their fingers on computer keyboards doing research and trying to get the "Fresh story" of the day. Other field reporters racing around attempting to edit their story in time for the five o'clock.

"I'm game" Dean teased. Even though her career had changed from a story writer's PA to a breaking news reporter, Whitley Loganson had most definitely not changed; she was still the sarcastic little pistol that he remembered. Though still beautiful, she looked different, not as carefree, her face was etched with worry and stress. Her long blonde locks were twisted into a tight bun held up with a freshly sharpened pencil. Uptight. That's how she looked all the way from her pointy high heels to her small diamond pennant necklace.

"No, I can't…I mean _we _can't."

Dean raised his eyebrows, never having been able to do one at a time. "I thought the dude was the only one who could have problems ya know, banging-ly speaking. What's your issue?"

"Don't you understand? What's it been four…five years? Dean you can't just waltz into someone's life after that amount of time and expect them to, ya know, what you're wanting me to do." Whitley took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Dean Winchester had that effect on her; got her all riled up and, generally, he would then give her one hell of a lip lock. Well, tradition held true, a millisecond later he had pulled her in his arms and was giving her one hell of a tongue tangle. The pair heard someone clear their throat loudly and they pulled apart. Whitley gasped "Mr. Brighton, oh my gosh, my apologies."

"No need Miss Loganson, just please keep it 'G' rated around here." He gave Dean the once over and, deciding he passed the test, "I'm sorry, but young Whitley here has forgotten her manners. You are?"

Dean pointed at himself stupidly and to that Mr. Brighton nodded "Winchester, Dean Winchester. It's very nice to meet you." Dean took the outstretched hand of Mr. Brighton.

"No, the pleasure is mine young man. Billy Brighton" he saw a sparkle in Dean's eye and watched the corners of his mouth turn up. "I've thought the name quite comical myself." At this point Whitley was amazingly glad that Mr. Brighton had a humorous side. "Take care of this girl, Dean. She's quite a firecracker."

"Don't I know it," Dean replied. Mr. Brighton gave Whitley a wink as he walked away. He had always liked her and had once told her that she was like a granddaughter to him. Whitley punched Dean in the shoulder. "What was that for?"

"For kissing me at work."

"You started it by getting angry!"

"Well, Dean I was at least expecting a 'Hello' or even a 'Hey Whit' you know. You just can't hit me with the 'I want you' thing right off the bat!"

Dean smirked "Whitley, it's me and, besides, I _did_ call you and at that point I said Hi. But what can you expect from me? You were the best I've ever had, Whit." She blushed vividly at his comment. "Would you like to get that coffee now?"

"Uh, Dean. I'm still at work."

"Yeah that's right. So I guess that coffee could wait."

"Since when are you the sensible one? That just makes me want to go, just to drive you insane."

"No, Whit"

"Well, you don't have my job do you? Producers breathing down your neck, editing your story in time for a deadline, it's rough Dean and I've been doing it for four years. I think that I can indulge in coffee."

"Whitley Loganson you are going to sit your butt down in that chair and finish your damn story."

"And what will you be doing Mr. Winchester?"

"I will be sitting here watching you and trying to control myself until what…five?"

"Five thirty, I have to give a live presentation at least once a night. Instead of controlling yourself, you could flirt with my PA."

"Nah, I met her downstairs, she's a bit too young for me."

"Well, gee thanks. _That's _a great ego booster. She just got out of college for goodness sake. And she's too young for you?!?"

"How 'bout I was being respectful by saying that because her boobs are way too small. And you, Whitley Loganson, have a great rack. So, yes that should be an ego booster. But there will more than likely be some flirting on _her_ end anyway; she seemed to be quite taken with my ruggedly handsome looks."

Whitley laughed at the truthfulness of his last statement. "Well, yeah, Morgan has a thing for anything males that moves."

"As opposed to anything male that like _doesn't_?"

* * *

"Is it possible to _die _from boredom?" Dean was sitting on the floor leaning against Whitley's desk and watching her work. He had already hummed the chorus to every Metallica song he knew.

"Well, if you could, I would have one hell of a story for tonight. However, I believe it is impossible; besides, Dean, you've only been sitting there for an hour. You _could_ move on to Zeppelin. Or you could grab me some caffeine from the breakroom." Dean nodded as he stood up.

"Where is this breakroom you speak of?" Dean asked gallantly. After receiving directions he went on his way, humming 'What Is And What Should Never Be'. When he made it to the coffee machine Dean heard someone cough behind him; it wasn't a real cough, more like a 'turn around and talk to me' cough. So, Dean turned around to see a pencil-neck geek who clearly thought he was the shit. "Yes?" Dean asked.

"You should keep your lips to yourself. Whitley Loganson is _my_ girl."

"Ahh, I wasn't aware she was anyone's property." Dean threw back cockily; through the hour and a half he'd been here he found out that she was single and had been that way for a while. He was going to have fun screwing with this guy.

"She and I have hooked up and let me tell you for such a great body she really bombs in the sack. Took forever to squeeze out a happy ending."

"Did it ever cross your mind that she didn't want to be with you? Whit and I have a history…a _great_ history. That's where I get that idea that I can lay my lips on her wherever we are and , trust me, it doesn't matter who _you_ are or if the two of you were together or not." Dean was having a bit of fun, but he really hoped that this wasn't Whit's boss – that would be bad. This dude was a jackass

"I am the meteorologist here, Mike Topher.".

"Wow, man you _claim_ that name." Dean 'coughed' to cover "nerdy" slipping out of his lips. Meteorologist? Dude and he thought Mike was Whit's boss.

"Would you like to share your name with the class?" Mike asked pompously, because Dean didn't cover 'nerdy' up very well.

"Dean…Dean Winchester" It was pretty clear that Mike thought Dean had a cool name, but he so obviously didn't want to admit that.

"So, _Dean, _you mentioned that you and Whitley had a history. How drunk did you have to get her to get her to sleep with you? Took me almost a month's pay." Dean shook his head, Whit could hold her liquor awesomely for a girl, but around round seven or eight she got pretty dumb. It was crazy how stupid this guy was. Dean didn't have to give her one sip, just a smile and they were in bed, or the floor, or the table, anywhere convenient.

"You had to get her drunk? Huh, how strange. Nope…I don't recall ever _having_ to get her drunk."

"Just stay away from her."

"I'm sorry, dude, but I have no intention of doing that."

"Well, then, Winchester, you best be watching your back."

"Why? Do you have mob connections? Because _you_ certainly couldn't do me any harm, Topher. And if I were you, I'd get that name changed."

"Whitley Loganson is mine."

Dean fumed, at first this had been fun, but now he was angry, "Since when did she become an object?"

"I will take her right out from under you, Winchester. Just watch."

"If she's ever under me you couldn't take her anywhere. Trust me. I don't even think you could take her if she was on top."

"She will be in my bed again"

"Thought you said she was bad at kickin' boots, man. Why'd you want her back?"

"Even a bitch can learn how to fuck, Winchester"

This guy was disgusting, therefore, Dean had to slug him. Mike landed on the floor spread eagle. Dean smiled a cocky grin and, proud of his work, decided to leave. Before he was out the door he called to Mike, still on the floor, "Oh, you say she was bad in the sack? Well, she obviously hasn't ridden _your_ saddle."

Whitley was editing her story on the computer when Dean came back with two cups of coffee. He gave her a kiss on the back of her neck as he sat down the cups on her desk. "Hey there, cowgirl!"

"Huh?"

"Nothing…nothing at all."

"Dean, that took a while to get coffee."

Dean messaged her shoulders, which were very tense. "I met Mike and it looks like your ex is going to need some extra make-up tonight." Whitley twirled her chair around so she faced Dean and gave him a 'what'd you do' look. "I slugged him after he said he was gonna have you again."

To Dean's great surprise Whitley smiled, "Thanks, I've been meaning to do that. He just always slaps my ass before I get the chance to slap him."

"What a little prick."

"Prick? Oh yeah, sure. Little? Don't even get me started on little." Dean cracked up at her comment. "What? Dean he's terrible. I swore off sex after I was with him and that was six months ago. I'm not kidding; it was that bad. I mean you know how much I like sex."

Later, around one, Dean was going to take Whitley to a small diner to have lunch with Sam. Dean wanted them to meet. Whitley slid into in passenger side of the Impala. "I haven't been in here in a while." She noted, smiling.

"Brings back some good memories doesn't it."

"Yup, it sure does"

"Okay before we have lunch you have to de-workify."

"Um…okay. You're gonna need to walk me through those steps, cause I have no idea what you're talking about." Whitley giggled, Dean was crazy, but it felt great to have him back, for however short a time.

"Lose the pencil" Dean watched as her hair flipped out of the tight bun the pencil had been holding it in. "Whore it up a little" Whit laughed as she tossed her hair around to loosen up the strands. "Last thing, leave the jacket in the car."

"Dean, it's freezing outside"

"You can wear mine, then. You always looked hot in it."

When Dean and Whitley got to the diner Sam already had a table and was waiting for them. He was really surprised at how beautiful she was. Her hair was dark blonde, almost brunette and when she slipped off Dean's jacket her arms boasted creamy, pale skin. "Whit, this is by brother Sammy. Sammy this is Whitley Loganson, newsperson."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother "You can call me Sam, but my brother prefers Sammy."

Sam held out his hand and Whitley took it laughing, "Investigative reporter to be exact. It's nice to meet you Sam. Ever thought of calling him Deanny to counter the whole Sammy thing?"

"No, but that's a great idea. Thank You, Whitley." Sam decided not to call her Whit, that seemed to be Dean's name for her.

The three had an enjoyable lunch. When they said goodbye, Sam and Whitley felt comfortable enough to give each other a small hug. Dean was amazed at how awesomely his brother and Whitley hit it off. At the beginning Sam had thought it was strange to have lunch with Dean and Whitley; since she and Dean would sleep together and he and Dean would be back on the road, but after meeting her and seeing the two together the awkwardness kind of faded away. They balanced each other perfectly; Sam could have been mistaken, but he seriously thought that Dean loved her.

* * *

Five thirty came slowly, but it was going to be worth the wait. Dean was twirling his keys on his finger while he waited for Whit to grab her purse. She came around the corner, walked up to him and gave him a slow kiss. Dean wrapped his arm around her as they walked in the brisk Montana air. He saw Mike the Meteorologist leaning on a nearby wall, watching them. "Whit, can I be a jerk for a minute?" she nodded, smiling and Dean smiled, too, before calling, "Night Mikey!" To that the weather man flipped Dean off.

Dean stopped the Impala at a park, near where he had a room for the two of them. Whitley had slid close to Dean and had her head on his shoulder/upper chest while his arm was draped over her shoulders. She sighed contently and relaxed even more into Dean. He kissed the top of her head and then laid his head lightly on hers. "Hey Dean?"

"Mmhmm" He rubbed his thumb in circles on her shoulder, just enjoying the feeling of her being next to him.

"Not that this isn't nice, I mean really. But I thought you wanted to go somewhere?"

"You're a little eager, don't you think?" Dean gave her classic smirk of his.

"You're the one who pulled the whole 'I want you' thing this morning. I'm just working with the information you give me." Whitley gave Dean an equally devilish smirk to which he wore a you-drive-me-freakin'-crazy look on his face. Driving him insane was Whitley's specialty, it was the same for him. They drove each other crazy, but it was the good kind of crazy, like wild and fun crazy. The kind of crazy that made you want to push the other on the nearest smooth surface and get it on.

It didn't take Dean long to navigate the Impala to the small motel and park. However, it did take him an exceedingly long time to unlock the door because Whitley kept whispering naughty comments in his ear which caused him to fumble with the room key.

Finally in the room, Dean slipped his jacket off and pulled Whitley into is arms. It just felt right, him and her, everything just fit. Dean bent his head down and gave her a long sensuous kiss. She moaned ever so softly as her arms snaked around his neck and she kicked off her three inch heels, making Dean a good six or seven inches taller. He played with the hem of her shirt and slowly slid it up and over her head. Dean quickly pulled his shirt off in a need to feel her skin on his. Their foreheads met as they looked each other in the eye and at the same time they just laughed. It wasn't a full bodied wow-that-was-a-great-joke laugh, more of a soft incredulous I-can't-believe-I'm-here-with-you-again breathy laugh. Dean unzipped her pants and slid them over her hips and she kicked them off.

He stepped back to admire her body, which, by the way, was still absolutely hot; Dean smiled a cocky grin. "I see that you still hoard lingerie?" Remembering her collection of prissy underthings that probably cost more than her college education.

"Yes, you aren't complaining now, are you? Because I remember you to be quite fond of my obsession, and I don't _hoard._"

"Sure you do, babe. But you're right about one thing – I really do enjoy it. Now shut up, I've been needing this for a while."

"Oh yeah all day. How rough for you…"

"Nope, more like four years, two months, one week and three days."

"You kept count?"

"You do that when you miss someone."

"Well, I miss my best friend from first grade, but I don't know how long it's been."

"I love you, Whit"

"You love me?"

"Yeah, Whitley. I love you and I need you." She nodded and he pulled her into a kiss. His kisses were always like heaven, tender, yet heavy and passionate at the same time.

They made love that night like they never had before. Dean realized why she had always been the best; it was because he loved her. Every single bit of her. He never let hunting cross his mind, just left his mind to the task at hand.

Whitley realized why she didn't let other guys touch her. That reason was Dean, she loved Dean. She would love him for the rest of her life, even though he made her crazy at times. He was amazing and he also loved her.

* * *

I admit it – I really enjoyed writing this!!! So…REVIEW please!! And everyone be sure to check out my icon. I must say it's AMAZING!! 


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